


Battle of The Six Tankards

by Penjaculations



Category: The Hobbit
Genre: A SHIT TON OF FLUFF OKAY, Fluff, M/M, Some Mild Angst, Thorin gets owned, bilbo being adorable, drinking game
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-23
Updated: 2015-02-14
Packaged: 2018-03-08 18:07:21
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,777
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3218456
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Penjaculations/pseuds/Penjaculations
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Thorin challenges Bilbo to a drinking competition.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Bilbo glanced across the table over his row of drinks at Thorin, who had a similar row of drinks in front of him. When Fili had stood atop the neighboring table to initiate a bet that dwarves could hold liqueur better than hobbits, Bilbo had not intended to actually participate. Sure, he was the only hobbit around for miles, but he had never been prone to drinking challenges.

If anything he had intended to quietly slip away the moment he heard Fili issue the challenge. He probably would have made it back to his room without incident had it not been for the look Thorin sent his way.

The newly-crowned dwarf king had flashed that maddening half-smile and raised his eyebrow at the halfling. Bilbo, who at that point had in fact been halfway out of his seat, froze in mild terror. Thorin’s grin had spread across his face and at that point Bilbo was done for. There would be no escaping from this tonight.

Now here he was, four rather impressive-sized tankards, at least by hobbit standards, in front of him. Across the table from him, Thorin stood and raised his first drink, shouting out something in dwarfish before raising the mug to his lips, tilting his head back, and drinking the whole thing in just a few minutes.

Ale dripped off his bearded chin as he set the mug down and leveled his fierce gaze on Bilbo.

"Your turn, Burglar," he said, smirking. Bilbo stood on surprisingly steady legs and gave Thorin a look of utter resignation. If the dwarves wanted a competition, well, that was exactly what they were going to get, he decided. With that thought in mind Bilbo hefted his first drink and downed it all in one go. He hoped his time was just as good if not faster than Thorin’s had been, and was silently pleased by the look of surprise on the dwarf’s face.

Both Thorin and Bilbo got through their second tankards easily, and while the third drinks took a fair deal longer to get down, they were not so hard either. It was the fourth drink that was the real trouble.

Thorin seemed to nurse his for ages, taking meager sips instead of his previous gulps, and it was a good thirty minutes before it was finally gone. Poor Bilbo, who had decided it would be better to start his fourth the same time as Thorin’s, faired no better, so that by the time each of them were done it was clear the ale had begun to have an effect on the two.

"Where’s me next round, I’ll not be beaten by some ill-mannered, furry-footed li’l halfling," Thorin drawled, waving his empty tankard in the air. This statement only succeeded in reducing Bilbo to a fit of giggling that made Thorin’s shocked face turn a lovely shade of red, which in turn only made Bilbo laugh even more.

As soon as Bilbo’s laughing died down, two more ales were placed in front of him and Thorin. The mirth on the Halfling’s face immediately faded, and this time it was Thorin who chuckled.

Bilbo eyed this next set of drinks the way one might eye a den of ravenous wargs, but picked up the fifth drink before Thorin grabbed his. Knowing full well it would be unwise to try standing up, Bilbo stayed on his seat and drank it slowly. He sent a triumphant grin in Thorin’s direction as the dwarf lifted his fifth mug.

He drank his in the same way Bilbo had; sitting down. It was quite clear that he was having a more difficult time than the young hobbit had, and when he finally set his empty tankard down Thorin visibly swayed in his seat.

An amused roar rose up amongst the dwarves seated around the table, and those nearest Bilbo clapped him gently on the back. Bilbo nearly fell off his seat at the friendly pats, but shook off his lack of balance to reach for his sixth mug.

Thorin blinked across the table at his burglar, and gave the faintest of head shakes, urging the Halfling to stop the nonsense. Bilbo was having none of it. A hush fell over the table as Bilbo forced himself to stand and lifted the last mug, a fierce glint in his eyes that even he was unaccustomed to.

"Bilbo, you don’ need t’do this. We all know you’ve beat me," Thorin mumbled, rising to his own unsteady feet. There was a look of genuine worry on the Dwarf king’s face that even the ale could not hide, but despite that Bilbo shook his head.

Without a word Bilbo tipped the mug up to his lips and drank it as fast as he was able, setting the empty thing down with an unintended slam and nearly missing the table in the process. Thorin gaped at him in shock while everyone cheered, then picked up his own sixth mug once the noise died down.

The room quieted once more as Thorin drank. Bilbo had sat back down at that point, and watched with his breath held. It was no more than a few seconds into this drink when Thorin had to take his first break, and it was painfully obvious he was not going to make it through this one.

He gave it a valiant effort, no one could have said otherwise, but it only took a few more sips before he was done. And promptly passed out on the spot, falling from his seat with a thud that Bilbo supposed could only have been rivaled by the sound Bombur had made in Rivendell when his chair broke.


	2. Curses and Cuddles

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bilbo and Thorin must face the consequences of the previous nights events. Dealing with a hangover on one's own is never easy, but multiply that by two and you have a recipe for awkwardness.

The next morning Bilbo awoke to the sound of someone vomiting. He was vaguely aware that instead of a bed he was, more or less, wrapped up in a pile of blankets. Quite possibly he was also on the floor, though he honestly could not remember when or where he fell asleep, or even falling asleep period. Although in his defense it was difficult to remember anything with the pounding in his skull that had settled somewhere behind his eyes. The pain was enough to deter him from attempting to look around and find out where he was.

The vomiting noises assaulted his ears once more, accompanied by several harshly-muttered dwarven phrases, and Bilbo groaned, burrowing deeper into his nest of blankets. For the moment he didn't really care where he was so long as his head eventually stopped hurting, but as the presumably dwarven curses grew in intensity, and the owner of whomever was shouting such obscenities became obvious, Bilbo knew he had no choice but to get up and help.

Crawling out from under his cozy blanket-nest, Bilbo shielded his eyes from the light in the room and looked around. For a few minutes he was utterly confused, not having a clue as to where he was until the vomiting resumed and he realized. This was Thorin's room. And he had somehow wound up sleeping on his floor. His next thought was errant and unneeded, but no less important, and it's possible implications sent a bright flush across his cheeks. Unbidden, the thought of where Thorin himself had slept passed through the little Halfling's mind, and he could only wonder at the answer. And the fact that Bilbo could remember only snatches of the previous night's events only added to the mystery and embarrassment.

Bilbo shook his head to clear the thoughts from his mind, then groaned and doubled over, the sudden movement causing the ache in his head to flare agonizingly sharp. He stood slowly once the pain ebbed enough for him to move again, rubbing his eyes, and padded off in the direction of the vomiting and swearing. The sounds led him to a rather lavish bathroom where Thorin was currently curled on the floor next to the toilet, groaning and muttering under his breath in Khuzdul.

He appeared to finally be finished expelling his stomach of its contents, but clearly he was still in some severe discomfort. Bilbo sighed and took a towel from the rack on the wall, somehow managed to coax Thorin into sitting up, then proceeded to wipe off his face after getting the towel damp with warm water. Thorin grumbled through the whole ordeal but didn't entirely protest, sitting mostly obediently while Bilbo cleaned his face and hands. 

Once that was done Bilbo helped Thorin to his feet and led him back to the bedroom. His intent was to steer Thorin to the bed but the dwarf had other ideas, stopping by the pile of blankets on the floor instead and promptly dropping himself into its midst, pulling Bilbo down with him. The Halfling tensed for a moment, not entirely sure how to react. Bilbo had no prior experience with cuddling but he was more than ninety percent sure that it was something dwarves and hobbits did not normally do together.

A few painfully silent seconds passed, then Thorin shifted and suddenly his head was on Bilbo's chest, dark hair spilling like a waterfall over the hobbit's white shirt. Bilbo swallowed hard, a strange feeling of panic welling up in his gut until Thorin absently grabbed Bilbo's left hand and placed it on the back of his head. Bilbo sucked in a startled breath, but Thorin's answering rumble of a laugh calmed his nerves.

"You are unusually nervous this morning, my burglar," he mumbled into Bilbo's shirt.  


"I, erm, don't exactly remember much of what went on last night," was the Halfling's only reply as he gazed down at Thorin curiously. Thorin chuckled again then burrowed his face against Bilbo's chest, producing a satisfying yelp of surprise from the hobbit.

"H-hey! Don't do that, it tickles!" Bilbo cried out, trying to squirm away with no success. Thorin had looped one arm around his waist and had a hold like a vise despite Bilbo's wriggling. Once he realized he would not be able to get away, Bilbo stopped struggling, and glared petulantly down at the dwarf, huffing in frustration.

"You are a right bother, Thorin Oakenshield, now will you please tell me what on earth is going on?" He finally asked. Thorin lifted his head to grin up at Bilbo, reaching out with his free hand to tap the creases in the Halfling's forehead.

"Why don't you just relax so I can fall asleep in your arms again, Master Baggins. Last night you couldn't seem to let me go, and I rather enjoyed it. I'd like to do so again, as many times as you'll let me. I can tell you've got questions and I'll answer them, but only after we're both properly rested and have left this hangover far behind us, if that's alright with you," he replied.

Bilbo's frown faded from his face, and he finally let out a resigned sigh, settling back into the nest of blankets. Thorin scooted up enough to tuck his head against Bilbo's neck, his satisfied hum resonating through both of their chests. Bilbo stiffened at first, the intimacy of the moment being wholly foreign to him, but after a moment he relaxed.

If he was being honest with himself, despite the awkwardness of the situation, he had never felt safer. Though Thorin's head was nestled under his chin, his arm was looped protectively over Bilbo's middle, holding the hobbit as close as he was able. For the first time in a long time Bilbo felt like he could breath easy again, and he relished the feeling.

After a few minutes of laying that way in silence, Thorin's breathing evened out as he drifted off to sleep. Bilbo marveled at the sudden security Thorin had given him, and realized suddenly that the last time he had felt this peaceful was when he had been back home in the Shire, in his hobbit hole of Bag End, surrounded by his books, and maps, and furniture, before he'd set out on this adventure. It was another moment before he realized that it was because here in this moment, with Thorin laying at his side, he felt like he'd found home again. 

The truth of the matter, Bilbo suddenly understood, was that home was not simply a place any longer. Home was not something physical you could reach out and touch. Home was where you felt safe and loved, surrounded by those you call family. And here, with these dwarves and their lack of table manners and loud voices, he'd found what Bag End had always been lacking. What he himself had always been lacking these past years.

It would not matter now where he went, so long as he stayed wrapped in Thorin's warm arms and safe in the knowledge that there was someone in the world who cared for him so deeply. So long as he had this, nothing else mattered. With this knowledge secure in his mind, Bilbo finally allowed himself to relax completely, letting the gentle sounds of Thorin's breathing lull him to sleep.


	3. The Heart's Desire

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bilbo and Thorin finally come to terms with their own feelings, but will either of them have the courage to speak up about them?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HAPPY VALENTINES DAY EVERYONE!

Thorin was the first to wake up the next day. He was still a bit groggy, but otherwise finally over the monstrous hangover. Bilbo was snoring quietly beside him, his face pressed snugly against Thorin's neck. He was still more than a little amazed that Bilbo had not objected to the impromptu cuddling Thorin had initiated.

With a sigh and slight shake of his head, Thorin extricated himself from the hobbit's embrace and snuck away to the bathroom to relieve himself. When he returned to the bedroom he found Bilbo blinking at him curiously, running a hand through his attractively sleep-tousled hair.

"Did we sleep all day?" He asked, and Thorin chuckled at the question.

"We did, Master Burglar, and it was a very fine sleep if you ask me," he replied. A frown creased the Halfling's forehead as he climbed out of the pile of blankets, but he said nothing else. Instead Bilbo set himself to the task of putting the blankets on the bed where he presumed they belonged, tucking the ends and sides in carefully. He even went so far as to arrange the pillows in a neat line, fluffing them up briefly before turning his attention back to Thorin who could only stare at his burglar in wonder.

"Are you quite finished?" He asked teasingly. Bilbo's answering glare only resulted in another chuckle from Thorin.

"This is your room, you could at least help tidy it up," Bilbo pointed out. Thorin grinned and walked over to ruffle Bilbo's hair, causing him to yelp and duck away from the offending hand.

"Do you mind?!" Bilbo cried, scowling up at the dwarf.

"Not really, truth be told," Thorin acknowledged, grinning. Bilbo huffed and shook his head, heading toward the door.

"I should really be getting back to my own room, I think. I need to change, this shirt reeks of ale, and a bath probably wouldn't be a bad idea either," he muttered, more to himself than for Thorin's benefit. He hurried out of the room without further comment, and Thorin watched him go with an odd sort of empty feeling settling in his gut. He hadn't wanted Bilbo to leave yet, but hadn't been able to get his mouth to form the words that would ask him to stay.

The drunk cuddling had opened up new worlds of feelings the dwarf had since thought were unattainable. Feelings he couldn't even yet put a name to. The one thing he did know was that he liked it and in no way wanted it to end. Bilbo, however, seemed to have other ideas about this whole affair. To Thorin it seemed almost as if the hobbit couldn't wait to get out of Thorin's room, as if the thought of staying one more minute had been revolting.

Perhaps not pushing Thorin away the previous night had just been Bilbo's attempt to not hurt his feelings. Perhaps he hadn't felt any sort of attraction toward Thorin at all and it had just been pity. That thought alone was enough to make all the blood drain from Thorin's face for one horrifying second.

It had not seemed that way, but they had both been drunk after all. Thorin knew better than anyone that people, especially Dwarves, often did really stupid things they didn't mean while intoxicated. Everything Thorin remembered doing he knew he had meant, but would have been too embarrassed to ever do had he been sober. Without actually asking him, he had no way of knowing if Bilbo regretted what had happened.

\-------------------------------------

Bilbo's immediate reaction upon waking up in Thorin's room for the second time was one of panic. He managed to shove his unease away once Thorin entered the room. He appeared to be happy and the dwarf's joking manner put Bilbo at ease, but other than that he gave no clues as to how he felt about the previous days' events.

So Bilbo had hurried from the room the first chance he got, heart hammering in his chest as he padded down the halls to his own rooms. He needed time to sort out his own feelings on the matter before he could even think of asking Thorin what his were. At the forefront of Bilbo's mind was the overall fondness he felt now whenever he thought of the dwarf.

Ever since eagle rock and that first encounter with Azog, Bilbo had been fond of all of the dwarves. But this fondness he felt for Thorin was not the same. His thoughts from the previous night came back to him without warning, and the sense of home and altogether right-ness overwhelmed him for a moment. Bilbo froze in place, a faint realization growing in his mind and his heart.

A very old memory of his parents came to mind, from when he was likely just a toddler, but he could clearly remember how his mother used to look at his father, and how the two of them had just seemed unequivocally perfect for each other. Watching them had always filled him with such warmth, knowing they loved each other so much. It slowly dawned on Bilbo that the way his mother used to talk about her love for her husband, was nearly identical to the way he felt toward Thorin.

A broad smile split the Halfling's face and he tore from the room, completely forgetting his intentions of a bath and clean clothes. He reached Thorin's room and had to pause outside the door to catch his breath before heading in. What he found was an empty room with Thorin seemingly nowhere to be found. The only clue Bilbo had was Thorin's clothes from the previous day which had been carelessly flung in a pile by the far wall, as if the dwarf had changed and then left the room in a hurry. Bilbo was confused by this but not altogether worried. Instead of waiting there for Thorin to return he decided he might as well carry on with his previous plan of cleaning up.

\-------------------------------------

Thorin had indeed left his room in a rush after throwing on the first clean things he found in his dresser. He had never felt so flustered or uneasy about anything in his life save the birth of his nephews, but even that paled in comparison to how he felt now. Not knowing what else to do Thorin decided the best thing would be for him to seek out Balin's advice. The old dwarf had often been someone whom he could turn to for encouragement when he was younger, and Thorin felt sure he could count on him in this situation.

Balin was in the library putting away several old scrolls when Thorin found him. Once he was done with the scrolls, Balin turned his knowing smile on his king.

"And what brings you to the library at this fine hour, laddie?" He asked. For a moment Thorin hesitates, unsure of how to phrase what he needs to ask.

"I have found myself in quite a dilemma," he finally manages, sinking into a chair and letting his head fall into his hands. Balin takes the chair beside him.

"What exactly is this dilemma of yours? You'll need to give me some details if I'm to have any idea of how to help, my boy,"

"Why do matters of the heart have to be so difficult?" Thorin said instead, lifting his head to glare at the bookshelf across from where they sat. Balin let out a heavy sigh and patted Thorin gently on the back.

"You have fallen for some unsuspecting lass, but you've no idea how she feels?" The old dwarf guessed. Thorin snorted, a somber grin crossing his features.

"Something like that, but I have more reason to believe that my love is unrequited than to suspect otherwise," he said. Balin blinked.

"I see. Well, do you know for certain the feeling is not mutual? Or have you even bothered to ask?"

"I have not had the chance to ask, nor do I have cause to believe I will ever get one," At that Balin shook his head and stood, leveling an accusing glare on Thorin.

"You are just as stubborn as your grandfather, possibly more so, and until you ask this someone how they feel you cannot assume anything. I suggest you get to it, laddie," he said, then strode purposefully from the room. Thorin sat alone in silence for several minutes, grumbling to himself before eventually retreating to the kitchens in search of something to eat.

Thorin settled down on a bench along the wall with a plate occupied by a roll and a few slices of cheese. He glared at his food for a moment, cursing his own stupidity and inability to speak of his feelings. He had no idea how to even broach such a subject with the hobbit, let alone actually flat out tell him that he loved him. The fact that he loved Bilbo was one thing Thorin was absolutely sure of. He could not remember exactly when the attraction first began, but at this point he hardly felt like that mattered. What mattered was how he felt now. 

"Thorin? Might I have a... I mean, what I mean to say is, if you aren't busy, there is something I must discuss with you," Bilbo's voice broke through Thorin's thoughts. The dwarf glanced over, visibly surprised to find the hobbit seated beside him. He had his own little plate balanced on his knees, piled high with far too many seed cakes for one person. Bilbo plucked one off the top and offered it to Thorin, who took it without bothering to even look at it. His attention was solely on Bilbo and what he had to say.

"I'm not busy," he replied quietly, his tone more than a little wary. Bilbo stared down at his plate briefly, a small frown on his face. The hobbit let out a great huff of a sigh, then set the plate down on the bench beside him before turning back to Thorin.

"First, I hope I didn't offend you this morning, I meant no harm by leaving. There were things I had to think about, and now that I've thought about them it's become clear to me that if I don't say something now I may regret it for the rest of my life," he began. His voice unsteady at first but slowly gaining strength as he talked. A small smile began to spread on Thorin's face.

"Mahal's beard, I thought it was I that offended you to make you leave in such a rush! You caused no true harm, Master Burglar, only the kind that made an old dwarf worry he had done something foolish and soiled a treasured friendship," Bilbo seemed utterly shocked by this statement, simply blinking at Thorin for a minute before suddenly bursting out in laughter. Once he'd settled down he flashed Thorin his brightest smile

"Thorin Oakenshield if I gave you any reason to think I in any way regretted what we shared these past few days, than I am deeply sorry. They have made me the happiest I've ever been in a long time, and I have you to thank for it," he said. Thorin processed his words, weighing them carefully in his mind while he tried to come up with a good response.

"If there is some other point you are trying to make you are not doing a very good job of making it clear," he finally muttered, though the smile that was still on his face contrasted with his grumpy tone. Bilbo's face went pink, and he floundered for a moment as he fished for the right words to say to make Thorin understand.

"I am not.... Not experienced much in dealings such as this, nor have I ever felt this way before. Perhaps that is why it's taken me so long to realize, and why it is so difficult to explain. Thorin you.... You are truly my dearest and closest friend, and yet.....," here Bilbo's voice faltered, and the pink in his cheeks turned a decidedly darker shade of red. His small hands gripped the edges of his tunic, wringing it in his fists as he fumbled with what to say. His eyes dropped from Thorin's piercing gaze to stare down at the floor.

"Friendship is far too simple a word, I think, for what I feel," he finally mumbled. Thorin reached out one hand to gently still Bilbo's worry-clenched fists. Bilbo's breath stopped, his heart nearly ready to burst from his chest. For a moment he was that timid, fearful hobbit back at Bag End who had fainted at the thought of being incinerated by a dragon. He felt dizzy and sick and just wished Thorin would say something, anything, to give him some idea of whether or not he'd made a poor decision in speaking so openly about how he felt. Thorin's hand over his own gave a gentle squeeze.

"Breathe, Bilbo," Thorin instructed, his voice low and, sweet Yavanna Bilbo had never heard him use a tone so soft before. His shoulders shook slightly as he let out his held breath and forced his lungs to continue working properly, though they seemed intent on doing the opposite. Thorin's other hand had found its way to his back and was gently rubbing small circles into the tense muscles of his shoulders. Bilbo finally lifted his head to look up at Thorin questioningly.

Thorin was smiling at him in a way Bilbo had never seen before, and it made his already racing heart seem to skip a beat. Something unspoken passed between them then, and though Bilbo had an inkling that it was good, that he had not made a poor decision after all, he was completely unprepared when Thorin suddenly leaned over to press a gentle kiss to Bilbo's temple. The hobbit stiffened, his mind whirling as it tried to process what had happened, and then he gave a tiny, startled cry of relief. 

Though he tried to stop them, his eyes welled up with tears that quickly spilled over down his cheeks. Before Thorin could react he turned and pressed his face to Thorin's chest, his arms curling around the dwarf's waist as he all but flung himself at him. Thorin's arms wound around Bilbo tightly, pulling the Halfling onto his lap and holding him close. He leaned his face into Bilbo's soft curls, pressing tender kisses onto the top of his head and along the side of his face.

He eventually managed to lift Bilbo's face, brushing away the tears still on his cheeks, and leaned down to bring their lips together. Bilbo let out a contented hum and Thorin smiled against his burglar's lips before pressing one quick kiss to the end of Bilbo's button of a nose. Bilbo ducked his head under Thorin's chin, a blush dusting his cheeks a faint red, and Thorin chuckled. It was a deep rumble of a laugh, one that filled Bilbo with warmth, and he marveled at how things had turned out. Never in his wildest imaginings could he have dreamed of things working out so well. Thorin settled back on the bench, shifting so Bilbo was curled comfortably against his chest. After several quiet minutes simply listening to Thorin's heart and the sound of his steady breathing, Bilbo finally spoke.

"I love you," he murmured. Thorin's arms tightened slightly around him, his voice thick with restrained emotion when he managed to reply.

"And I love you."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am so, so sorry this took so long. For some reason this chapter was really stumping me for a while, but hopefully the wait was well worth it. I think it finally came together nicely, and for a story that wasn't supposed to turn into a chapter thing, I'm really happy that it did because as frustrating as it was, this was also a joy to write, and I hope you all enjoyed reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it!
> 
> Sadly, I think I'm going to leave this as is, but I will definitely start working on other stories and one-shots, so if anyone has any requests or ideas you'd like to send my way, feel free to message me here, or on my tumblr at http://holy-cricket-i-lost-my-burglar.tumblr.com


End file.
